


you underestimate how comfy this is

by Stabbsworth



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Blanket pile, Gen, also the shipping tag is on purpose, he just really loves being in a pile of blankets and pillows and being warm, soft and warm, the au is probably called 'spirit of the constant at night' now lmao, triumphant!wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 10:57:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21427102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stabbsworth/pseuds/Stabbsworth
Summary: A bastard scientist is very comfortable.
Relationships: Wilson / Comfort
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25





	you underestimate how comfy this is

Coming to the realization that he both loved and hated the Winter was a bit of a harsh one.

Loved Winter's nippy mornings and nights that could go down to subzero temperatures for the ability to cuddle with the others and snuggle up in several layers and blankets and thermal stones.

Hated being cold in general, the snow clumping to his shoes and clothes and becoming water and leaking into his skin and bones and whatever else it could go into. The way that the Constant would become a desolate wasteland, with no food growing due to the frost. The possibility of hypothermia claiming him before he could make it back to camp, the long nights that practically begged for him to be attacked by his boss.

And the inevitable sickness bug that would end up making its rounds around the camp.

Lucky it was a cold this time. Could have been flu.

He shifted a little, trying to find the right position that would let him go to sleep. These days he tended to stay up most of the night, finding sleep to be a fruitless endeavour.

Particularly in the summer months, where the temperatures were too high for blankets and the nights not lasting long enough for a full cycle. It became impossible to sleep with someone else, something that he utterly hated, considering most of his feelings of safety relied on someone else being there.

They'd usually take to straw rolls and sleep around the endothermic fire. Cival preferred to sleep within the confines of a tent.

There were no stars in the skies of the Constant. Nothing to look at, he'd've loved to tell Wigfrid or Webber about the constellations. And yet his memory failed him on all but one or two of the connected stars.

It's yet another thing that he genuinely misses about Earth.

The stars were pretty, at least.

He draws the blankets closer around himself, a hint of melancholy and homesickness somewhere deep in his gullet.

(Can he really call it home when he doesn't remember it in the first place?)

Cival gingerly nudges the nearest thermal stone closer, until he can feel the warmth on his chest, and shivers a little more, shutting his eyes and nuzzling into the fur-covered pillows and fur-lined blankets.

The blankets are thick, ensuring a decent amount of insulation for warmth, and lined with beefalo fur, a wonderfully soft material.

The first time he'd managed to make blankets, it had been grass ones, and they tended to be rather itchy as a result of the grass smoothly gliding across his skin and making the hairs on his body stand on end.

(No, he's not ticklish. At least, he certainly wouldn't say so.)

These ones were much more comfier.

He shifts again, rolling onto his other side and letting the warmth emanating from the thermal stone warm up his back.

The comfort involved in sleeping in a nest of blankets and pillows and warm thermal stones is practically unparalleled. The only thing that could possibly make this better would be if someone was with him.

**Author's Note:**

> legally filed under the 'spirit of the constant at night' au. (he's a servant to the monarch that's on the throne.)
> 
> anyways, wilson deserves sleep.


End file.
